


Eyes Wide Open

by Endangered_Slug



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Belle wakes up first, Cursed AU, F/M, Lacey by proxy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 23:16:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3747208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Endangered_Slug/pseuds/Endangered_Slug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Repeatinglitanies prompt: In a cursed Storybrooke, Belle is a vain and shallow young woman married to Mr Gold. She would only “deign” to sleep with her husband in the dark in order to not see his face. But in a remarkable twist of fate, Emma’s presence awakens Belle instead of Rumplestiltskin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eyes Wide Open

**Author's Note:**

> Note: There is a wonderful author on the Rumbelle Showdown (now in its last week!) who also used the prompt and said they are going to continue it (I hope!) and it was really good. Like, really good! I thought our takes were different enough to go ahead and finish what I’d started. 
> 
> Special thanks to @westcoastmalone for unscrambling my sentences for me.

* * *

 

“Who are you?”

The Evil Queen’s strident voice as she argued faded away as the blonde in the red jacket said her name: “ _Emma_.” Belle shook her head trying to dislodge the sound, but it rang in her ears like a gong.

Emma.

Belle didn’t know why that was so important, why those two syllables stood out amongst all the others, but she felt like she’d just come up for air after spending a lifetime underwater. She staggered back as a boy was thrust at her. She took this boy, this… _Henry_ , she remembered suddenly, by the shoulders and gently led him inside. Whatever was going to happen to Emma, she knew the boy shouldn’t be witness to it. He ran upstairs, happy now that he’d found his birth mom.

Emma… Emma… Emma…

There was a mirror on the wall, round and shiny, and Belle looked at herself on her toes in order to see properly. She looked the same as she’d ever did; her hair was down and straighter than she was used to, but her face was the same, if a bit strained around the eyes and made up with unfamiliar make up.

She glanced down at her clothes, not recognizing anything she wore. Her skirt, if it could even be called that, was bordering on the obscene, showing more leg that even she liked to do in the Enchanted Forest. The shoes were also different — high and teetering on the brink of a snapped ankle, Belle wasn’t sure if this was the queen’s way to hobble her and prevent her from escaping, or if this was simply how people dressed in… wherever this was. A glance at the queen’s attire told Belle that her shoes were obviously a choice and not a punishment.

It had to be a spell of some sort. Her last real memories were of being held prisoner in the queen's tower while a black cloud loomed over the horizon, engulfing everything she saw. Something happened. Something caused this... hallucination.

Belle blinked and noticed that there was a glittering ring on the third finger of her left hand. It shone in the too-bright lights of the house and she shook as she held it up to her eyes, wondering what exactly it meant. There were some lands where a ring on a finger betokened a troth though it was never the practice in hers. Belle swallowed as new memories fluttered against her real memories, swirling in her mind like a slough. The ring meant something important, but what?

“Lacey. Lacey!”

Belle remembered. _She_ was Lacey. She looked, disoriented, at the queen —  who was not  the Evil Queen in this strange land without magic. Everything was wrong. Nothing made sense. “Yes?”

The queen looked at her with a condescending sneer and, for a moment, Belle thought she was about to hurl a fireball at her head, but the queen merely shoved past her, striding into the foyer of the house.

“You are the most conceited person I have ever met. Can you tear yourself away from your reflection for once? I want you to follow Ms. Swan for me. See that she leaves town.”

What? Belle nodded her head slowly and went to retrieve her… _purse_ , her brain supplied from these double memories and dug out what she now knew to be her car keys, whatever those were. “Yes, of course…” _Regina_ , her brain whispered to remind her that the queen was the queen wherever she went. “Regina. I’ll see that she does.”

Belle didn’t know why she was agreeing to this, why it was important to the Queen that Ms. Swan, this Emma left town. Belle just knew that it was best to get out of the Queen’s presence as quickly as possible, and if it meant doing her bidding then that was fine. Maybe, if she agreed to do this one thing, she could make her escape, find Rumplestiltskin, and be free.

She hurried down the walkway, automatically turning right where her car was parked. Memory told her this tiny red chariot was hers and memory told her that it was a _car_ and that she knew how to drive it. But Belle still fumbled with the keys and stalled out twice before she remembered that she had to engage the pedal on the left and then stalled again before she remembered that she needed to lift her left foot _up_ off the _clutch_ and her right foot _down_ on the _gas_ before she was able to pull away with short, choppy jerks.

She'd ridden in a horseless carriage before, back when she was indebted to Rumplestiltskin, but back then there was magic at play, and all she had to do was sit back with a blanket over her lap and hang on. Here, she was solely in charge of the thing, her mind supplying the necessary instructions, but any sort of muscle memory she'd had before she'd woken up was lost to her.

She lurched slowly and painfully towards Main Street, not bothering to head out to the town line. There was only one way out, she remembered, and no one ever left. Sure enough, there was Emma's yellow carriage - _slug bug_ , her mind supplied - parked out front of Granny's Inn. Ms. Swan wouldn't be leaving town tonight.

Belle sighed to herself, resigning herself for another round of whiplash when she saw him stride with purpose across the street and enter Granny's.

He was smaller than she remembered and his skin was smooth and pink and unblemished by scales and, though his hair hung straight down over the collar of his plain suit and he walked with a limp and the aid of a cane, she _knew_ him.

_Rumplestiltskin_.

His curse was broken, she realized. That was why he looked so different, so small, though he walked like owned the town. When had it happened, she wondered. Did he change his mind? Was she the one who broke it? Was it another? But no, he was always thus in this strange land where her old memories warred with the new. He was just an ordinary man here.

Except he wasn't Rumplestiltskin in this place, he was Mr. Gold and he was her husband.

She looked down at the ring on her finger as more memories flooded her mind. Of nights spent in a smoky tavern letting men — big and beefy and stupid — paw at her with work-roughened  hands and rancid breath every weekend night until Mr. Gold walked into her life and took her from that squalid existence and ushered her into a life of comparable luxury.

Belle felt ill not knowing if these memories were planted in her mind or if they actually happened.

There was a deal and then they were married, Mr. Gold and Lacey French. This man she didn't know was her husband and Lacey hated him completely.

Oh they had hit it off initially. Their relationship was convenient for both of them, he gave her protection and money and in return she gave him—

Belle quickly opened the car door and emptied the contents of her stomach on the road. Resting her head on the steering wheel, she tried to get her mind to think clearly, but it kept going in circles: Rumplestiltskin… Regina… Emma.... Lacey…

Who was Emma? What did she trigger within herself that snapped her out of this strange, nightmarish dream? Was she the only one affected by Emma’s presence?

Rumplestiltskin still hadn’t emerged from the inn. Perhaps he, too, was dealing with his own memories returning, if, in fact, this is what was really happening. Maybe their past life, her old life, had never been real. Perhaps she’d dreamt it. Maybe she was mad? She certainly felt mad.

She should go home and wait for him, but she suddenly remembered her father and that he was in this cursed town, too. She hadn't seen him — not really — since her deal with Rumplestiltskin. His home, his _shop_ , her memories told her — and what was her father doing with a shop? — was around the corner. She would like to see him again, before she went home to face this Mr. Gold. She closed the car door with a thunk and got the beast of a car started again. This time the short drive was a lot smoother, she only stalled out once.

The drive to her father’s apartment over the flower shop was filled with memories she’d rather not have. Of her ridiculing Rumplestiltskin, of her nights out spending them with who-knows- whom while he waited at home, meek and cowed by her razor-sharp tongue. Only the terms in their prenup had kept her from outright cuckolding her husband, but Lacey was clever and daring enough to toe the line without getting caught. There was no indignity she hadn’t visited upon him in this land and these memories told her that, once the novelty of being a wife wore off, she quickly got the upper-hand, making Rumplestiltskin beg for every small kindness and those were few and far between.

She felt sick again when she reached the shop and gladly climbed out of the car, tottering up the dank stairway to her father’s apartment and knocked on the door.

“Lacey,” he answered, indifferently, after a short wait while the various deadbolts were unlocked. “What gives? You hard up for money again?” he asked, stepping aside to let her into the cluttered up living room that reeked of smoke and stale microwave dinners.

Belle blinked as another flash of memory came forward. She came by, hands out and purse empty when she didn’t feel like servicing her husband for more pocket money. What had she become in this horrible place?

“No, papa. I just wanted to see you,” she said, her voice warbling a bit before she cleared her throat to dislodge the lump that seemed to have taken up residence. “Is that so odd?” she asked, but she knew that it was odd. Lacey never dropped by without some ulterior motive.

“You’re usually not up for a social call,” he said eyeing her with suspicion, pulling out the plastic kitchen chair and sitting down heavily. He was in a ratty bathrobe, stained with tobacco juice and Belle wept inside because her father, the father that she knew, would never have worn such a dirty rag. He had always been fastidious in his appearance, telling her that putting forth his best meant that he took his station and his duty seriously. To appear in anything less than his best would be insulting to the people that came to him for help.

“Yes, I know, papa, I just thought it would be nice,” she blinked back tears, knowing that if she broke down in front of this man who was just a facsimile of her father, then there would be no sympathy from him. No comfort or understanding, he would scorn her and laugh at her distress, she remembered. He was the driving factor for her marrying Rumplestiltskin - Mr. Gold - in the first place. His drinking, his ridicule, his fists… Belle’s face screwed up as she fought the anguish welling up. This man was not her papa. She didn’t know where he was, but this wasn’t him, she knew that just as she knew that she wasn’t Lacey and Rumplestiltskin wasn’t Mr. Gold.

Regina would always be Regina it seemed.

At last she composed herself under her father’s watchful glare. He had been silent and immovable the entire time, unconcerned about his daughter’s obvious distress. “You got any cash on ya then?” he asked, smirking. “Seeing as how you’re visiting your dear old papa out of the goodness of your heart and all?”

She took a deep breath and shook her head. “Just a few—” _dollars_ , her memories supplied. “Dollars. Nothing much.”

He shrugged, one-armed. “That’ll do me. Gotta go grab some smokes anyway.”

Belle stared at him, incredulously, before digging into her purse for her wallet and found the money — strange greenish-gray and made of crisp paper — shoving the unfamiliar bills into his hands roughly before standing up. It had been a mistake to visit him. She would have been better off staying away and remembering the man she once knew then have this imposter worm his way into her memories. She strode towards the door and yanked it open.

“You’re looking rough, Lacey,” he said, knowing that this would wound Lacey more than anything. “Gold’ll drop you for a younger model soon enough.”

She shook her head, but stayed silent knowing that getting a rise out of her was what he wanted so that he could mock her some more. Hit her if she gave him enough reason to. Belle wouldn’t fall into that trap and, even though silence was just as much of a provocation to him than mouthing back, she kept her mouth firmly shut and walked out. Belle wouldn’t be back and neither would Lacey.

The drive to her home was better. Her instincts had kicked in finally and the pink house that her memories said belonged to them loomed before her. His chariot, large and imposing, was already parked in its spot closest to the door; a concession to his bad ankle (something Belle was curious about now that she remembered it — the Rumplestiltskin she knew pranced and strutted and stomped, but he did not limp) and a constant reminder to him that Lacey thought he was weak and insufficient.

She longed to run inside, to Rumplestiltskin’s arms and his reassurances. She needed to tell him how much she loved him before the opportunity was taken away from her again. The overwhelming love she felt for him squeezed at her chest until she gasped for air, hand over her heart in a fruitless effort to keep it beating inside her chest.

She was afraid, she realized.  

Would he know her?

Would he want her?

She hadn’t seen Rumplestiltskin since the morning he threw her out of the Dark Castle. Angry and resentful, he never fully believed in her love for him, which hurt more than anything the queen had done to her. She wondered if he remembered her now that this Emma had come to town. Emma and he must have met inside Granny’s Inn. Was he inside the house waiting for her to come home? Was he happy?

_Does he love me,_ Belle wondered. She'd thought he did once upon a time, but it turned out she had been grossly mistaken. There was a spark there, she knew, but it hadn't been enough. She wasn't what he wanted and he retaliated out of boiling fear. Would he feel remorse for the way he’d treated her all those years ago or would he cast her out again?

(how long has it been, she wondered, as she stared up at the house and the bright lights inside)

If he did remember her, would he be glad to see her again as Belle, not this Lacey person she’d become? Did he love Lacey as he hadn’t loved Belle? They had been intimate as a married couple, she knew that even though she also knew they weren’t happy. Would he welcome her?

If only she hadn’t been taken by the Evil Queen and made her way back to him. If only he believed her when she kissed him. If only he loved her back.

If only.

If only.

There was one way to know for sure, she thought as she slammed the car door shut and trudged up the gravel path. She had to see for herself if the man inside was her Rumplestiltskin or this Mr. Gold. Maybe, if she loved him enough he would love her back. Maybe he already did.

The house was lit up brighter than the ballroom of her father's castle on Winter's Solstice and she took a moment to marvel at how this new land had its own brand of magic even though her new seek knew that this was only 'electricity' and a commonplace thing here. Belle wanted to study it further and understand the how and the why those tiny globes in the chandelier above held the light so tightly within their glass. There was so much that was new to her though she could recall their names and purposes easily if she wanted to though Lacey’s memories.

There was plenty of time for study later.

First she had a husband to track down and she slipped out of her monstrous shoes and quietly went in search of him. The rooms had an overabundance of mirrors hung up and she found herself reflected brightly wherever she went. Lacey, not only fond of her looks, thought it would be fun to show off how old and decrepit her husband looked in comparison. Belle was beginning to despise Lacey and made a promise to herself to get rid of every mirror she found outside of the bathing room.

Rumplestiltskin was in his study, it turned out, sitting at his desk with a frown etched on his face and a tumbler of whiskey clenched in his fist. He'd heard her come into the house there was no doubt about that from the way his shoulders had hunched over in defense, in anticipation of her biting scorn. Her heart clenched at the sight of him so used to such harsh treatment from the one person who should have been his comfort.

She stared at him, wonderingly, as he waited for her to speak, but she didn't know what to say. She loved him, still. Loved him more than anything and her heart swelled at the sight of him — flesh and bone and here and now. She'd dreamed of this moment for years, imagining how they would be reunited after spending so much time apart and the reality of it, his curse gone, the flavor and wonder of him faded behind this mask of a man he wore in this new world, but it was still him underneath it all. There was no disguising that.

The harsh light wasn't kind to his features and his eyes lay half in shadow underneath his long hair, but she thought him handsome anyway, and when he looked up at last her breath caught in her throat at the change. He was so transformed and yet, the features were still the same. It was his eyes that were the most different, even more than the greenish-gold scales he had back in their real home. His eyes were soft and warm and full of depth and she wanted to know what they looked like when they smiled instead of looking at her warily as if she was going to start screaming at him any moment. Perhaps that’s what Lacey would do, but not Belle.

“Hi,” she said, smiling breathlessly, feeling giddy because despite it all, despite her fears and her heartache and doubts, he was here in front of her. Changed, yes, but it was him and just being near him made her so happy she felt like she could burst into stardust.

“Hey.” He paused, waiting for her to come to the point. His lack of recognition of herself, of Belle, told her that his meeting with Emma — if it took place at all— had not woken him as it did her.

She felt a sliver of disappointment, knowing that their reunitement was delayed. Delayed but not impossible. They were together, sort of. She could make this work if he let himself open up.

“How was… how was your day?” she asked, hopefully. Perhaps he had woken up, but was unsure of her own awareness.

He stared at her suspiciously before answering. “Fine, Lacey. It was rent day as you know. I suppose you want some money, then?” he said, reaching for a drawer to his left.

She swallowed down the disappointment. Lacey would have come to him with her hand out, she realized with disgust. Money was the second most important thing to her other than her looks. “No,” she replied, before he could pull out a roll of cash, expecting her to take it and leave. “I don’t need money, thank you.”

He put his hand back on the desk and sipped from his whiskey slowly, watching her over the rim of his glass. When he was done, he licked his lips thoughtfully and smirked. “So it’s like that?”

_Like what_ , she wondered, her eyes darting around, trying to decipher his meaning.

“You’re in some kind of trouble?”

_You have no idea_ , she thought as she remembered Lacey’s friendship with Regina, of her memories warring with each other, of her uncertainty with the man in front of her. “No. No trouble,” she whispered. “I missed you today,” she said, truthfully, coming around his desk to stand in front of him. He was right there. She could touch him now, for the first time in… how long?

Too long. She reached out with a trembling hand and stroked his hand, the one that was still holding the tumbler, marveling at how different his skin felt now. She looked at him, then, wondering if she kissed him, would he remember her then? Her love had been enough before, perhaps it would be able to break this spell he was under, too. If he let it.

She studied his mouth intently — thin and pressed into a tight line, she knew they could be soft and yielding and beautiful. She’d kissed those lips, once and magic had happened. Perhaps it would happen again? Her eyes flicked up to his face and she saw the raw hunger in his eyes before the mask closed down again.

Yes, she would kiss Mr. Gold and with any luck Rumplestiltskin would awaken. She bent down, slowly, giving him plenty of time to move away if he wanted, holding onto the arm of his chair to steady herself because he certainly wasn’t touching her and that was frustrating in itself, wasn’t it? His watched her the whole time, eyes wide with fear and a little bit of awe as she came closer to him and he gasped just a bit as she touched her lips to his. They were warm and dry and tasted of whiskey and Belle closed her eyes at the contact. She wanted to crawl in his lap, to wrap herself around him and never let go lest he push her away again. He was stiff for a moment before relaxing into her kiss, innocent enough but full of intent and she poured her love for him into it.

“Kiss me again,” she murmured against his lips, opening her eyes to see him eyeing her warily.

_It’s not working._

Realization dawned in his eyes. “Oh, I see,” he said finally and with a belly-deep sigh. “You must have been desperate to come to me.”

_What?_

He stood up, using his cane as a balance, gripping the handle so tight his knuckles were white. “Come on then,” he said and brushed past her out of the room.

_Oh._

She followed him up the stairs, heart thumping in her chest and watching how he took the stairs carefully, leaning on his cane with every step and itched to help him, but she knew he’d just shake her off if she tried.

They reached their room — her room, now. She’d kicked him out years ago, only inviting him in when she relented to his pleas, finally coming to an understanding that they would be intimate on a limited basis at best.

They typically had sex as rough and fast as possible trying to get each off quickly without any thought for the other. There was no love involved at all — it had never been a part of their deal and Lacey left no room for it in their lives. Hard, fast, lights strictly off — that was all Lacey allowed and Belle felt her stomach clench in dismay.

He turned away from her when they entered the room, shucking his coat off with disinterested movements as if he was merely undressing for a bath and she watched, fascinated as the layers he wore were peeled off one by one. She didn’t know if she could go through with it if he thought they would just go about their normal routine. She didn’t want a quick fuck, she wanted to love him for the first time, but never  having really done this before, she didn’t know how to go about it. The memories her mind supplied were of no help and little real information.

Gold realized, finally, that she wasn’t undressing and he looked at her in askance.

“Sorry,” she said, shyly. “I was just enjoying the view.”

He looked at her suspiciously, his shirt half off and hanging off a shoulder before he yanked it back on and strode toward the bathroom without a word, closing the door behind him.

She stood there wondering what she’d said to make him retreat like that. What did she say? She shook her head and went to her dresser, pulling out a silk nightgown that she knew felt luxurious against her skin and slipped it on. It would have been better if they’d taken the time to undress each other, she thought. She would have liked his hands on her. She would have liked to have watched him at least. Maybe next time he wouldn’t be so shy. He had been so back in the old world, perhaps some things hadn’t changed very much.

He came out of the bathroom having changed into his pajamas, frowning and looking everywhere but straight at her, the fingers not holding his cane rubbed against themselves nervously as he had back in the old land and Belle’s heart gave a tiny squeeze at the familiar gesture. Yes, Rumplestiltskin was still there. She would find him again and bring him out.

He noticed that she’d changed into as well, and turned down the covers to the bed — their bed now if she had anything to say about it — and then, after he sat down heavily on the left side of the bed, he looked at her.

_This is it_ , she thought as she stepped closer, nerves bundling up inside of her. She would go through with it. Even if this man wasn’t strictly Rumplestiltskin, he was still hers and the glimmer of her True Love peeked out in the way his eyes regarded her as she came towards him.    

    She put a hand on his shoulder and bent down to kiss him, already anticipating the thrill of his lips against hers, but he jerked his head away and stood up, hurrying over to the light switch and turning it off, plunging them into darkness.

    “But—” Belle began, but he was already crawling under the covers, his cane left laying against the side table waiting for him.

Nonplussed, she got in on her side of the bed, pulling the covers up to her shoulders, hoping that she wouldn’t be too awkward once he finally started participating.

He wasn’t moving.

She turned her head and stared at him. The filtered moonlight coming through the window showed the sharp angles of his profile and, now that it was dark, she could more easily pretend that this Mr. Gold was Rumplestiltskin. Yes, she thought, moving closer until their bodies touched, perhaps the lights off was a good idea for this first time. He met her lips hesitantly, moving them against hers as soft as a feather before opening them up as she licked at his lips. It seems Lacey’s memories did have some useful tips after all, she realized as their kiss deepened. She tried to convey how much she wanted him with every stroke of her tongue, every nibble at his lips, every breath she sucked from him, and when he reached for her at last, she knew that she’d been successful.

Kissing Rumplestiltskin was every bit as wonderful as she’d remembered and soon she felt ready for more. Belle wanted to go slow and take her time to savor the moment, but he and Lacey had worked out a routine and he wasn’t about to deviate from it, it seemed. He pushed at her shoulders to get her to lay back, but she evaded his hands until he was a bundle of confusion, panting and ready to question her, except he would never do so unless he was ready to unleash Lacey’s wrath. She needed him to know that she wasn’t going to just take from him tonight. That she cared for him.

He leaned into her hand as she stroked his face and made a helpless noise as she started to undo the buttons on his pajama top, trying to muffle the sound, but it was as clear as a bell and the need of it struck like lightning, shivering down her spine straight toward her core and she opened her eyes to see how much her touch affected him.

No. No, this wasn’t right. She needed to see him.

She kicked the covers off and scrambled out of bed, slapping the light back on before turning back around. He looked hurt for a fleeting moment, flushed and gasping for breath as he lay on the bed, propped up on one elbow where she’d left him, left his arms and his hesitant kisses, but it was quickly replaced with resignation, his lips twisted in irritation.

“Fine,” he said in a low growl. “Not worth it anyway.”  He sat up on the edge of the bed, buttoning his pajama top back up with hasty, jerking movements, but Belle could tell by the slump set of his shoulders that this was one more injury she’d laid across them.

“No, I…” she stepped away from the wall to stand in front of him, taking his hands in hers, squeezing them gently. “I wanted to see you.”

He looked at her from beneath the hair hanging in front of his face. His eyes glinted with hope before they narrowed in suspicion. “You’re a terrible liar, Lacey. What is it? Did you overextend yourself again? Need more money?”

“No,” she said quietly even though her memories told her yes, she had actually overspent this week as she seemed to have done every week since they got married. “I like to look at you” She reached out a hand and pushed his hair off his face, looking at they way he eyed her warily.

He stared at her for a moment before his eyes hardened again in an effort to keep hope at bay.

“R— Gold,” she said, recovering herself quickly, but she saw the flash of dismay then anger at her mistake, saying someone else’s name in front of him, and she swallowed down her own hurt at his insistence that she had some angle to this, some way to make it sordid and filthy.  “Do you want the lights off?” She would rather turn them off than see the look of disgust in his eyes and swallowed a hysterical laugh at their role reversal — Lacey had made it clear that she was revolted by the sight of him, had he become so hardened to her that he no longer wished to see her as well?

“No,” he whispered hoarsely, licking his bottom lip with a flash of his tongue. “Leave them on.”

She smiled in relief, taking his hands in hers and putting them on her hips, letting him take the lead in this now that they had come to an uncertain truce. He grasped at the material in tight fists, before drawing it up over her thigh to expose her sex, which Lacey had left bare.

Belle blushed when he exposed her, but refused to back down. The look of wonderment and his hesitant movements overcame any feelings of maidenly shame that threatened to overcome her. She kept her hands on him, touching his face, stroking his shoulders, his long hair. She wanted desperately to kiss him again, but it seemed he had taken the reigns at last and so she watched his face as he uncovered her inch by inch.

The press of his lips at her belly made her jump and she grasped at his head to keep him there before he misinterpreted it for revulsion. Oh, but his lips and tongue could work magic on her skin. He’d been rumored to have a silver tongue back home, but she had always thought that meant the way he bent his words. This? This was golden and she whispered his name, _Gold_ , as he laved at her.

He’d stripped her of her négligée, kissing and biting with every inch of exposed flesh, and flung it across the room in his haste to get her naked before she changed her mind. Belle fought the urge to cover herself and stood before him, breathing heavily from his attentions. His soft brown eyes were blown nearly black and he watched her, waiting to see if she would call it off or let him go on.

“Let me,” she said, pushing at him gently until he gave in and lay back on the bed. His pajama top was hastily done in his earlier ire and all misbuttoned. She grinned at that, plucking each one out of its hole, one at a time, until she was able to part the fabric and see him for the first time. He held his breath as she looked her fill, waiting for her to heap scorn upon him, but she only shook her head with a soft smile before lowering herself to taste him.

She was shocked at herself as her tongue touched him, licking at the salty skin over his chest before moving over to a small, hard nipple. His harsh moan and the way his hands were buried in her hair proved that she wasn’t mistaken in how much he would enjoy it and she added her teeth to the delicious mixture, scraping them softly against his flesh, relishing the way he writhed underneath her.

“Lacey,” he moaned, and she frowned, nearly stopping altogether before she remembered that Belle did not exist here. She bit him, hard, at the sound of her other persona’s name just the same and as he jumped away she laved at the wound, soothing it with her tongue.

His hands were everywhere then. Reaching for her, bringing her up so he can moan into her mouth and she liked that better than that false name. He looked pained, but the way he was moving his hips against hers, bringing his hard member in contact with her, must have meant she was doing something right. He shrugged out of his top, hastily, then he started to shimmy his pants down before she stilled his hands with hers. 

“I said let me,” she murmured, sitting up to straddle his thighs, running her hands down his smooth chest until she reached a curious trail of dark fuzz below his navel and the... _cock_ , her memories told her... jutting up hard and impatient from the rough thatch of hair underneath. He was perfect, she thought and she told him so, whispering it softly, letting the words fall gently on his disbelieving ears. She would have to do her best to wipe that look of mistrust off his face and she told him how beautiful she thought he was as she lapped and nibbled her way down.

Lacey’s brain was a wealth of knowledge and she applied it liberally. A few long licks here, a finger inserted there — and didn’t she blush at the thought of it? — a gentle tug against a tender bump inside him and he was writhing again, calling out her name in sharp gasps that sounded as if they were ripped from his body as he thrust into her mouth. He was close, she knew and she could have let him come then and there in her mouth and she would take it gladly, but she ached for him herself. She gave him a final, long suck before crawling up to kiss him deeply letting him taste himself on her tongue. He groaned into her mouth, calling her name roughly and pulled at her hair so she would lift her chin and let him nip and bite at the soft flesh of her neck. Belle was ready for him, she needed to feel him inside of her and soon.

“I want you,” she told him, whispering into his ear and he rolled her over, hiking one of legs up over his shoulder.

It wasn’t until she felt the blunt tip of his cock at her entrance when she realized that this was happening and she tensed in anticipation. Lacey may have done this dozens of times, but she hadn’t and she wondered if it would hurt or if there would be a great deal of blood, but Gold, though he was shaking with need, entered her slowly, rocking into her inch by inch, groaning as she enveloped him completely. She felt stretched, but the feeling of him inside her was worth any discomfort she would have to endure that night.

“Oh, god. Fu—” he moaned, lifting his head up once he was fully sheathed. He gazed at her, awestruck, mouth agape and his eyes completely lost as they wandered over her face. “Never felt like this before.”

She nodded wordlessly, pushing the hair back from his face so she could see him clearly. “Yes,” she breathed, lifting her hips up to meet his thrusts. “So good with you.” She wanted to call him by his name, but it was the wrong one on the tip of her tongue so she bit it back, concentrating on the way he moved over her, the play of his muscles on his back, the trembling of his fingers as they brushed at her face wonderingly. The discomfort had long passed and he was thrusting against her, moving in a way that sent sparks shooting through her nerve endings until she was trembling along with him. There was no separation anymore. No estrangement, just the two of them, joined together, and it sent her barreling towards a peak just bordering on the edge of something both terrifying and wonderful.

Sweat dripped down Gold’s face as he worked above her. He looked just as affected as she was and a wave of euphoria overcame her as she cried out her pleasure to him, meeting him thrust for thrust.

The break came, at last, sending her over the edge with a shuddering cry and, startled, he fell with her, groaning into her neck as he spilled himself with in her.

Breathing heavily and feeling sticky and sore, she rubbed at his back and kissed the part of his face that she could reach, wondering at how wonderful it felt when two people came together like this. Even if she hadn’t been herself, Lacey had been missing out.

After a moment spent in her arms, he lifted his head to look at her carefully. “You said something,” he whispered in confusion.

She smiled at him hesitantly. “I did,” she said, wondering what, out of all the things she told him as he made love to her, he picked up on.

“You said you loved me” he told her, wonderingly.

She nodded, feeling the tears well up. It hadn’t worked. Rumplestiltskin was still trapped, but she had had broken down a bit of his armor. “I do. I’ve always loved you. I just…” she thought back on how she’d woken up in the queen’s house. “I just remembered today.” She gave him a watery smile. “I love you,” she told him, willing him to believe her.

He closed his eyes and lowered his forehead to hers. “Yes, Belle,” he said. “And I love you, too.”


End file.
